Where It Began; (Caroline/Tyler, T)
Title: Where It Began
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Caroline/Tyler
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,990
Written for stainofmylove 's multi-fandom comment fic meme prompt: Firsts by becca_radcgg .
Summary: “For the first time, she thinks he may understand far more than she gives him credit for. It isn’t the last time she thinks so.”
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of its respective owners (none of whom are me).
A/N: So there’s a point in this story where Caroline’s heart-beat comes into play and (before anyone thinks I’ve forgotten that Caroline is a vampire lol) I just wanted to cite Katherine’s (rather taunting) conversation with Stefan during “By the Light of the Moon” where she discusses what happens to a vampire as her/his body desiccates and she mentions that at some point “your heart stops beating.” Hence, in the context of TVD’s mythology, vampires do have beating hearts. Thank you stainofmylove for making me take note of that! ^_^
~*~
“And all the roads we have to walk are winding,
and all the lights that lead the way are blinding,
and there are many thing that I would like to say to you
but I don’t know how…
I said maybe,
you’re gonna be the one that saves me…”
Wonderwall- Ryan Adams
~*~
The first time he slides into the empty seat beside her at lunch, she’s too afraid of Matt drawing all the wrong conclusions to appreciate the novelty of it all.
Because, really this--all of this--is nothing if not novel, unprecedented, unheard of even. Caroline Forbes and Tyler Lockwood do not constitute a pair where exclusive company is the norm. He isn’t Bonnie or Elena and she isn’t Matt of Luke. They aren’t dating and he isn’t (or at least she doesn’t think he is) trying to get into her pants. They just shouldn’t be.
And yet, here they are, her nibbling away at her Ham-and-Swiss sandwich and him wolfing down (no pun intended) his sub; the silence between them almost as heavy on their shoulders as the burdens they bear.
“So, how does this work,” he turns to her, determined to inject some semblance of ease where there seems to be none to spare. “You know-you eating real food when you’re…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t need to because, as far as he’s concerned, there are no secrets between the two of them; nothing left unsaid.
“Dead?” She smiles slightly, desperate to ensure that he isn’t left thinking that his efforts are in vain.
“Yea, that.”
“I don’t know Tyler, I don’t know how any of this works,” she sighs.
“Hmm, makes two of us…”
It’s the first time Caroline Forbes and Tyler Lockwood spend their lunch together. It isn’t the last.
~*~
The first time Tyler asks her out--really asks her out--Caroline’s lips are still tingling with the vestiges of Matt’s unexpected kiss.
“Tyler…”
“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything like that,” he assures her, his hands loosely encasing her upper arms. “We can just, hang out, you know? Take a break from all this vamp-wolf craziness.”
She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there are no breaks, that this is it-will always be it. And so, she silently nods her agreement instead.
She almost regrets it when his car pulls into The Grill’s parking lot, when images of Matt’s crystal blue eyes riddled with confusion and betrayal instantly overcome her. She’s as still as the most deeply rooted tree as Tyler removes his seat belt and turns to open his door. It isn’t long before he turns to her though, before he realizes that she isn’t making any move to leave the confines of his vehicle.
“Caroline?”
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she blurts out, her tongue always miles ahead of anything else.
“Because of Matt?”
“Yea,” she concedes softly, determined to make this one less a lie between them.
“He isn’t working today, I checked” He assures her, his lips pursed slightly with the burden of what he would rather not say--of the places she would rather he not go.
“Tyler-“
“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, surprisingly harsh and unrelenting.
The silence reinstates its presence, an awkward and heavy brand. She’s not sure what to say, how to fix this--any of this. There’s Matt and there’s Tyler and there’s her, and she hasn’t the slightest inkling where this web spun of secrets, curses, and Katherine’s whims will take any of them. All she knows is that she hates it, all of it; never has been a fan of the unknown.
“Look, I get it, okay?” His voice is far softer than it had been mere moments prior. “Me and him are best friends and you and him are… I don’t know, whatever. But I get it, and I made sure he wouldn’t be here so can we please just shoot some pool or something?”
She can’t help but smile at him because, in his own way--perhaps in the only way--he does get it.
Later, when he’s leaning over the pool table, eyes so intent on their target she can’t help but lament the fate of those hapless colorful balls, all traces of regret have vanished. In some strange way, it’s as if this day was meant for them. There’s no sight of Matt or Damon (who would surely have found a way to put a dapper on her version of “wolf duty” by now) or anyone they would feel obligated to entertain for that matter.
The imperfect lines of veins that run across his forearms draw her gaze, drag it up to his contracting biceps, to the pounding vein of his jugular. It takes her more than a couple of breaths to rein in her bloodlust (her lust), to realize that he’s handing her the pool stick and that it’s her turn. Their fingers brush as she takes it from his hand and she wonders for a second whether or not the contact had been deliberate. He’s warm--so warm--and she can't help but wonder what he thinks of her skin, of the coolness that even the most copious amounts of coffee could do little against.
She lets him win this one, figures that, all things considered, he needs the perk far more than she does right now. Either way, he doesn’t buy it, fixes her with a tilted gaze and pays for dinner (the price of which should have been the loser’s penalty).
For the first time, she thinks he may understand far more than she gives him credit for. It isn’t the last time she thinks so.
~*~
The first time Tyler’s lips press against her own, his palms framing her, she responds in the only way she can: with a fervor that rivals his own, with her fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt. There is nothing but her and him and his lips working against her own in a way that’s making her whimper, that’s making her lose what she (they) can’t afford to.
“Tyler,” she gasps, pulls back slightly only to have him follow.
It’s her mother than brings it to an end as she rushes out the front door (hurrying off to work she supposes with a vehemence that’s slightly unsettling). She stops in her tracks at the sight of them, her mouth agape and embarrassment etched on every crevice of her face.
“Sheriff,” Tyler nods, his hands digging into his pockets.
“Tyler,” her mother acknowledges, careful to keep things from blowing over (afraid to be on the receiving end of her wrath yet again).
“Caroline, you should probably-“
“Yea, okay,” she nearly snaps, doesn’t wait for her mother to finish the suggestion when she makes her way past her into the house.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she turns back to Tyler, her voice far less hostile that it had been when addressing her mother.
“Yea, okay,” he nods, spares the sheriff a glance, and makes his way down the porch steps.
She slams the door in his wake and rests the back of her head against it, isn’t in the mood to hear anything her mother--anyone--has to say right now. Her hand lays flat against her chest, heaving breaths doing little to calm the fluttering of her heart.
Death hasn’t taken this away from her, the excitement that comes with stolen kisses and eager hands. But it has tainted it, anchoring the edges of her smile and asserting its weight over her rapidly beating heart.
She falters, rushes to mentally categorize what just happened and huffs in frustration when she comes up short. Her lips tingle and her heart beats, and she could kill her mother for choosing that particular moment to break the pattern of her absence.
Luckily, that moment isn’t the last of its kind.
~*~
Her first taste of him is an unsolicited, unadulterated mess. One moment they’re testing the new shackles (replacing the ones he destroyed during his last transformation), and the next his lips are working so fervently against her own it’s making her head spin.
It’s been like this for weeks, a string of impulsive make-out sessions that leave them both breathless, that leave her conscience prickling at the image of Matt standing just along the periphery--desolate and alone.
It happens when she nips at his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood… to make her lose any and all sense of who she is and what she’s doing.
He’s pressed against the wall before she can register her own movements, her fangs slicing through the skin of his neck in a way that deems it inconsequential in the face of their sharp edges.
“Caroline, what-chill!”
He is intoxicating; his blood so hot it’s a wonder it doesn’t burn her tongue. She can’t remember anyone tasting this good, can’t imagine anyone who could taste better. She loses herself just enough for him to push her off, to send her falling to the ground.
He’s panting above her, hand pressed over the wound at his neck--the wound she inflicted and the very thought of it makes her unravel.
“Oh my God, Tyler…” she’s sobbing, fingers trailing frantically over the blood--his blood--smeared at her chin, across her lips.
When he says nothing, she flees; certain that this is the last of him she’ll ever get and she doesn’t blame him for a second.
~*~
She skips school the next day, turns off her cell-phone to keep everyone--everything--at bay. She vaguely wonders if it’s possible for someone (something) to be as repulsed with themselves as she is right now--as she has been since the night of the carnival. She’s sure it isn’t, sure she can’t go on this way no matter how many deep breaths she takes, no matter how many blood-bags briefly--just barely--quench her thirst.
It isn’t until much later in the evening that her solace is interrupted; jarred by the sound of pebbles ricocheting off the barrier posed by her window. Matt. Her breaths come in shallow pants, her mind numb, rendered useless in the face of her fear--her guilt.
The pebbles are unrelenting, one after the next; it won’t be long before they wake her mother. With the desire to keep the Sheriff in the dark, she finally makes her way to the window, pulls it open and looks down to find not Matt, but Tyler.
It’s the first time he visits her like this, in the dead of night; another secret for them to share. He climbs up to her windowsill, leaping in a way that is far too graceful, too feline for it not to be a recently acquired trait.
She steps back, makes room for him with her head bowed and her apology lodged within her throat. She bit him, actually bit him; could have killed him even. An apology seems so inadequate, so negligible in the scheme of what she’s done-what she could have done.
“Look I’m sorry I clammed up yesterday, I freaked a bit, okay? I shouldn’t have, but I did,” he blurts out, inching his way towards her until her upper arms are within his grasp (not for the first time).
“Tyler…”
“You were there--for me,” his voice is cracking, his grip on her tightening. “And now I’m here for you. Anything you need, I’m right here.”
Words evade her, are more lost to her than they have ever been. And so she embraces him, pours out what she can in the firmness of her hold because she knows he can take it. Before he moves in for a kiss, his eyes take every inch of her in, and it’s the first time she feels as if someone is really seeing her for who (what) she is; the first time it draws them in.
A part of her--the part that often forgets what she is and what lies ahead of her--doesn’t think she would mind him being the last.
~*~